


Four times Arendelle was more progressive than Dunbroch (and one time Dunbroch was more progressive than Arendelle)

by PTlikesTea



Series: All or Nothing 'verse [3]
Category: Brave (2012), Frozen (2013)
Genre: Cultural Differences, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 09:58:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4560291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PTlikesTea/pseuds/PTlikesTea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The gap between Elsa and Merida grows wider and yet, at the same time, brings them closer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four times Arendelle was more progressive than Dunbroch (and one time Dunbroch was more progressive than Arendelle)

  
**Four times Arendelle was more progressive than Dunbroch (and one time Dunbroch was more progressive than Arendelle)**

**.....**  
**Transport**  
All things considered, it had been a relatively boring day. 

The weather had been awful for a solid week, raining incessantly and trapping everyone indoors. Even the castle staff, who were obliged to be pleasant, were in a foul mood. They went about their jobs muttering under their breath as low as they dared. For once, Elsa was glad of the backlog of tedious diplomatic royal work she had to slog through; it gave her a good excuse to lock herself in the office away from everyone else. 

Around the 8 o clock mark, just as she was starting to doze off in her chair, she heard a loud crash down the hall and some muffled shouting. Concerned (and at least a little glad of some distraction) Elsa hurried out of the door to see what was going on. 

Merida was sprawled in a heap at the end of the hall, trapped underneath Anna's bicycle and a toppled pedestal and tangled up in her own skirts. There was a rather scandalous amount of bloomer and stocking-clad leg on show, and unbidden Elsa's eyes kept drifting back to admire the view even as she stooped to help her. 

"Should I ask?" Elsa queried in Angolsi. 

"Anna told me I should ride the iron horse," Merida said breathlessly. "I tried."

Anna appeared around the corner just then, red-faced and grinning. 

"That was so cool," she huffed in Dellian, holding her side. "You made it all the way down the stairs without falling! First try!"

"I should've guessed it was your idea," Elsa said, hauling the bike off of Merida and helping her up. "You know we're not supposed to ride indoors anymore. If I have to sit through another lecture..."

"Fine, fine, we'll go outside. It'll be more fun going through the puddles anyway," Anna replied, taking the bike from her and wheeling it away. She left Merida behind, who was readjusting her dress and rubbing her backside with a pained expression. 

"You don't have to ride the bike just because she told you to," Elsa said. 

Merida shrugged. 

"If I give up, that thing wins and haunts my sleeps," she told her. 

"It's not a competition. It took Anna months to learn."

It had indeed taken Anna the best part of five months and lots of hysterical tears to get the hang of riding the bike, but Elsa felt that the fact that it had taken her an entire year to confidently ride it around her room was something Merida didn't need to know. 

"Why do you have these things? Did something happen to your horses?" Merida asked. 

Although Elsa already knew, intellectually, that this was likely the first time Merida had even seen a bicycle, it struck her for the first time how utterly alien the concept must have been to her. From the little information she'd gathered from books and what Merida had told her, Dunbroch was isolationist to the point that any and all travel was conducted over water, on foot or on horseback through terrain that was heavily forested. There was no Gaelic equivalent for the word 'road.'

"Our tradespeople use them to deliver goods sometimes, everyone else just uses them for recreation," Elsa told her. "Would you have much use for them in Dunbroch, do you think?"

Merida snorted. "Even in the castle you'd break your neck," she laughed. "Or get stuck in the mud."

She was off then, and Elsa returned to her work. In the courtyard below, she heard them laughing together, lots of crashing and slightly goady encouragement from Anna. 

In the end Merida mastered the bicycle in a matter of hours, which Anna took as an insult. She sulked for a full day, but got over it when it was apparent that although she could ride the bike perfectly, Merida still couldn't say the word 'bicycle' without mangling the pronunciation. She would only ever refer to it as the 'iron horse.'

.....  
**Theatre**  
Once a year, a theatre troupe known as the Piscadellian Players made their rounds through the five Delles, seeking patronage from the rulers of those nations as well as any moneyed people that happened to enjoy their performances enough to donate to them. Early Spring was Arendelle's turn, which lead to a flurry of excitement amongst the townspeople. Watching the plays were the one thing that both the richest and poorest citizens of Arendelle could do together. 

Elsa personally didn't like the theatre much, though she was obligated to go and always had been. She found the troupe leader smarmy and his tendency to cast himself as the romantic lead despite being well over fifty years old while his leading ladies got progressively younger and bustier was creepy. Anna, however, adored the plays as a true romantic would. 

It didn't occur to Elsa that Merida had never seen a play until she overheard Anna try to explain the concept to her. She was failing miserably. 

"...and then the curtain goes down because they have to change the scenery because Act 2 might be in a forest or on a mountain or something..."

"So then we move to forest, yes?"

"Yes....no! They make it look like the forest with the scenery, we'll be in the same place...."

As always, Anna's problem with explaining things to Merida wasn't the language difference but that she made it far too complicated and talked too fast for Merida to follow. As always, Elsa swooped in to explain it in simpler terms. 

"It's like a book," she said. "But instead of pictures, the people onstage pretend to be the people in the story, and they perform the story."

"Oh," Merida grinned. "We have that in Dunbroch, too. Sometimes."

"Really?"

Elsa was puzzled, but after probing a little further she discovered that Merida's concept of plays were stalled at epic poetry; one person telling a story as others mimed key moments in the tale. No scenery, no props, no costumes, just the bare bones of the story. It sounded more appealing to Elsa, in truth; none of the artifice or frippery of the Piscadellian troupe, just a single voice telling a story. 

Two nights later, she was sitting in the upper pews of the church hall with Anna and Merida beside her, quietly sighing her way through 'The Badger and the Rake' the Piscadellian Player's chosen debut performance. She'd already seen it three times, it was an old standard, and beyond mawkish at that. The story of a rough commoner with a heart of gold whose beloved was being married off to the titular rake, a moustache-twiddling villain who spurred off a supposedly thrilling chase scene in the third act. It was mildly interesting the first time one saw it, to see it more than once was to groan through every predictable plot twist. 

After forty minutes, Elsa found there was more fun to be found watching Merida's reactions to the play out of the corner of her eye. She had been warned by Anna to keep as quiet as possible (Anna had been cautioned multiple times for crying, yelling and cheering too much during the plays) but that didn't stop her from making some rather hilarious facial expressions. She rolled her eyes when Mirabelle confessed undying love to the main character, she mimed queasiness when the badger and Mirabelle had romantic clinches, she grinned with maniacal glee whenever the rake behaved in a dastardly fashion. When the badger's faithful best friend died tragically just before the curtain fell for intermission, she had to stuff her sleeve in her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. 

"Mirabelle's song always gets to me," Anna said shakily as the curtain came down, wiping her eyes. 

"Really? After four performances? I could barely keep my eyes open," Elsa said. 

"That was amazing,"Merida exclaimed, to Elsa's surprise. 

"I didn't think you cared for it," she queried. 

"The peoples are a bit pathetic," Merida admitted, shrugging. "But all this to tell a story? It's incredible! Where did they get all this stuff?"

"What stuff? The trees?" Anna asked. 

"Yes, and the cart and the cow thing from that chasing bit...."

"I think they had that stuff made for the play," Anna told her. 

As Anna launched into a thorough explanation of the ins and outs of staging a play, Elsa tried to imagine the same story told on a single small stage, by one person, without the scenery and the costumes and the small orchestra that played the musical cues. It probably wouldn't be something worth sitting through. 

The curtain rose again, to perform the final three acts. Elsa braced herself for the 'shocking' twist revelation that Mirabelle's best friend Dora was working for the rake all the time; it usually brought a shocked silence and a standing ovation for the actress playing Dora at the end. 

Except that at this particular performance, it brought a sudden shout of ' _I knew it!_ ' from Merida and an answering yelp of laughter from Anna, and a wave of stifled, indulgent giggles from the audience. 

Perhaps 'The Badger and the Rake' wasn't so bad after all.  
.....  
**Portraits**

Hiding in her office wasn't really an option, so when the portrait artist arrived Elsa opted for making him wait for a mere one hour while she picked out an outfit that showcased the austere attitude needed for a royal portrait, but would also be comfortable enough to sit in for most of the day. After wasting her time this way, she grudgingly met with the man to be pressed into a pose. 

She was at least permitted to sit in a chair (thanking the Lord for small favours) but Merchaud, the painter, insisted that she sit sideways, looking over her shoulder at him. After just twenty minutes her neck began to ache. 

_Merchaud is the best and he's difficult to get_ she told herself, trying not to sulk. 

Merchaud was Bretanol, and had trained in the classic way under some of the world's greatest painters. It had been a choice between him and a Sangonellian who had a tendency to give all of his portraiture subjects rosy cheeks and large bosoms. 

Nevertheless, as Elsa grumbled silently in her own head, Merchaud was wearing an expression of disgruntlement to match her own. He had debts to pay off back home and he seemed resentful that he was using his talent not to paint masterpieces of classic fables but bog-standard royal portraits for money. 

Anna came sauntering by after a while, followed by Merida. Anna took one look inside the room, saw what was going on, and fled. But Merida was more curious; she lingered in the doorway. 

"What's going on?" she asked in Dellian. 

"I'm having the royal portrait done," Elsa replied. "I've been putting it off for a while."

Merchaud grumbled quietely to himself in Bretanol, before switching to Dellian to instruct Elsa. 

"Please to keeping your head up, your highness," he told her sternly. 

Elsa groaned but did as she was told. She watched Merida tiptoe up to peer at the artist's work, hoping he wouldn't chase her off; she could use something nice to look at. Merida's eyes widened as she looked at the portrait, she looked from the canvas to Elsa back to the canvas again. Elsa's temple beaded with nervous sweat; it couldn't be that bad, surely. 

"How is he doing this?" Merida asked in a very odd tone. 

"Doing what? Does it look okay?"

Merchaud snorted angrily. 

"Looks more than okay, highness. Is masterwork," he muttered. 

"It looks like you," Merida said, staring hard at the canvas. "Like a mirror! Is it magic?"

What? 

"It's just a portrait," Elsa said, puzzled. 

"Yes. Just portrait. I do many portrait," Merchaud snarled, dipping his brush. 

"That's incredible," Merida said breathlessly. 

Merchaud seemed to notice her presence properly for the first time; his frown dropped and he seemed to puff up like a cockerel. 

"Yes, incredible," he agreed, beckoning her closer. "Her highness' hair is difficult colour but I make the colour glow, you see?"

"This can't be the first time you've seen a portrait," Elsa said. 

"We have _taipeis_ , made on cloth," said Merida. "But we make them ourselves. We don't have this."

"But there are paintings all over the castle....where did you think they came from?" Elsa asked. 

"I thought was magic," Merida shrugged. 

"So sad, you have no painting. You should have painting," Merchaud piped up, evidently pleased that his genius was being recognised. "I will make you painting, when her highness is finished."

"What? You can do one of me?" Merida asked, practically dancing on the spot. 

"I must make portrait of you," Merchaud announced dramatically, taking her hand. "It will be masterpiece."

Before Merchaud could kiss her hand, Elsa launched herself out of her chair and crossed the room in three strides to put herself between them. 

"I think it's about time we took a break," she said briskly. 

The next day, Merchaud insisted on postponing Elsa's portrait (which she fully approved of) to begin one of Merida (which she  _di d _ _not_ approve of). He posed her in the tower, sitting on the ledge facing away from the sea. Lua made an appearance after the first hour of painting and he insisted on painting her too, perched on Merida's arm. He had to caution her not to smile, which she had great difficulty doing. 

Elsa stayed to watch, and also to make sure Merchaud didn't become overly familier with Merida. Still, when he was finished and Merida ran off to show Anna the portrait she was thrilled with, Elsa privately ordered him to make a copy to send to her. 

(300 years later, the portrait was hanging in the Arfuzi Gallery as part of an exhibit when a 28-year-old woman, on seeing the portrait for the first time in person, suffered a severe attack of Stendhal Syndrome and attempted to steal it, breaking the protective glass. Restraining her required five security guards.

The painting was unharmed.)  
.....  
**Chocolate**

"No. I'm not doing it."

"Oh, come on! You'll like it!"

"Is mud. You're trying to make me eat mud. Big joke."

"For the last time...look, just try it! I promise you'll like it..."

Elsa walked in on Anna holding a box out to Merida, right under her face, while Merida backed away. She walked between them to break it up. Anna could be a bit full on, she knew that more than anyone. 

"If she doesn't want to, you should leave it,"Elsa told her sister, trying not to sound too stern. "What are you trying to give her? If it's lutefisk..."

"No, of course not," Anna scoffed. "It's chocolate! Can you believe she's never had chocolate?"

Ah. That was different. 

"Yes, you should try it," Elsa demurred. "I don't know how you made it this long here without trying it, to be honest."

Elsa was very gratified that Merida chose to try it then because Elsa had suggested it, after who knew how long Anna had been trying to convince her. They watched her face as she hesitantly popped a brown cube into her mouth. 

After swallowing with some difficulty, she made a face and shook her head. 

"Don't like it."

Elsa and Anna stared, uncomprehending. 

"Maybe you got one of the coffee ones...try this one!" Anna said, rummaging through the box. 

"There aren't any coffee ones in that box," Elsa murmured. "Maybe they're spoiled?"

"It's a brand new box!"

"Can I go now?" Merida asked. 

"No!" Anna growled. "Look, try another one, you'll change your mind."

"No," Merida said grimly. "You promised me I'd like it. I don't like it."

"It's chocolate! How can you not like chocolate?"

"It's too sweet."

The sisters looked at each other in alarm, and Merida took that opportunity to skip past them and leave the room. 

"Don't try her with the ice-cream," Elsa said, and Anna nodded sadly.  
.....  
**+1**  
**Homosexuality**

As Elsa strolled into the drawing room to sit by the fireplace, Anna was already in full gossip-monger mode, regailing Merida with some scandal she'd heard of. (Or trying; truthfully, Merida looked bored but trying and failing to hide it.)

Elsa's heart did a giddy little skip she tried to squash, because someone had tied Merida's hair back away from her face with a dark blue ribbon and the effect was awfully pretty. Guiltily, she stared into the fire and concentrated on Anna's voice. 

"...and she was supposed to be at the opera with him but she said she had a fever, but she didn't tell him, she sent the maid to tell him so he didn't even see her...."

"What's this about?" Elsa asked. If she'd been talking like that for a while, Merida was probably as lost as she felt. 

"You know, the Duchess of Strumhold," Anna told her. "Remember?"

Elsa nodded, though she didn't remember at all. Anna had probably told her this story and she hadn't been listening. Anna turned back to Merida.

"Anyway, so the Duke left because supposedly the lead role was being done by the understudy, and she was rubbish because she was nervous or whatever, so he left early and he got home and went to see how the Duchess was because he couldn't find the made and he went into her chambers and _they were **TOGETHER**!_ "

There was silence, in which all Elsa could hear was the hammering of her own heartbeat. She knew what that emphasis on the word 'together' meant. 

Merida, apparently, did not.

"The maid killed her?" she asked uncertainly. 

"No!" Anna spluttered. "Her and the maid were together. You know..."

She made a gesture with her open palm and a fist. This just confused Merida more.

"She was beating the maid?" 

"No, no! They were..." Anna struggled to explain, and Elsa did not want to jump in the way she usually did. She couldn't trust her voice not to shake and betray her. 

"They were with each other the way a man and a woman are with each other. In bed," Anna mumbled finally. 

"Oh," Merida shrugged. "Is that all?"

"Is that all?" Anna echoed. "They're both women!"

"Is that not allowed here?" 

Elsa's heart felt as though it was slamming against the walls of her chest cavity. Here was hope, impossible hope. 

"Well, I don't think there's any laws against it, but it's immoral. I think," Anna mumbled thoughtfully. "Is it allowed in Dunbroch?"

"Yes. _Bean-deirfiur_ , is like sister-wife," Merida explained. "Not very often, but happens."

Elsa turned further to the fire, to hide her face. Her stomach lurched, and yet she felt light, giddy. 

"How does that even work?" Anna asked incredulously. 

"They make a home together," Merida said, as if it was really that simple. "If they want babies, one marries a man for one night, gets baby, the sister-wives raise the babies together. Man goes back home."

"That is really weird," Anna said, wrinkling her nose. 

"You eat rotten fish," Merida countered. 

"For the last time, it's not rotten, it's dipped in lye to stop it rotting..."

Elsa tuned them out as the conversation turned from illicit romance to lutefisk. She took her breaths carefully, willing her body into a state of calm. 

It was too much to hope for. Far too much. She had accepted that. 

But still....

Just knowing that Merida didn't see it the way everyone in Arendelle did...

It seemed like a promise.

 


End file.
